Perpetuity
by lemonjelly
Summary: [GCR] with a little [WS]. Desperately trying not to spoil The Twist contains lots of anecdotestyle memories to the Main Events of GCR [COMPLETE] “Are you crying or laughing?” Gil asked. “Both.” she admitted
1. Clear

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed To All, A Good Night. (Dizzy-Dreamer, Daisyangel, Charmed-angel4, Celsie, Jenn Sidle, September, firestorm13, ThreeDollarBill, Junius, Megara1, tessa and Lissa88 – I was hoping no-one'd pick up on that, Lissa! The last bit was added just for the hell of it and I forgot about the earlier part...) Anyway, apologies if you came expecting something light-hearted – this is rather angsty, but I'll try my hand at something more light-hearted later on seeing as To All, A Good Night went down so apparently well! Thanks again! Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter One. Clear**

- o -

On average, in the USA, a pedestrian is killed in a traffic crash every 111 minutes.

Nick Stokes heard the brakes squeal before he thought to look up. They were working a case in the middle of the desert, by an empty stretch of road. They had been working in silence in the blazing heat, all three absorbed in their own work, until the screech of tyres on asphalt snapped his head up.

Sara Sidle had been combing the edge, where the tarmac met the dust, when she felt the rush of an oncoming car. She'd always been alert; Gil Grissom never failed to warn them of how dangerous drivers on empty, rural streets were. Often kids with more money than sense, he said, driving too fast just to see how much their cars could take. He worried about his CSIs like they were his own children.

Both of them saw what he didn't see until it was too late. The sports car hit their supervisor as it sped down at ridiculous speed. They saw Grissom fly up in the air, pause – just for a moment – and then fall back down to the ground with a sickening crunch. He, himself, didn't make a sound.

"Oh God." Sara screamed and ran over, Nick close behind her. "Gil!"

The car skidded to a halt and the driver, just a kid with more money than sense, leapt out. He stood dumbly in the middle of the road, unable to comprehend what he'd just done. Gil Grissom lay motionless on the road, limbs at odd angles and a kind of dullness in his eyes.

"Shit – shit – shit," Nick muttered and grabbed his cell phone. "This is Nick Stokes requesting immediate medical attention. We have a 422. CSI Gil Grissom has been run over. I repeat: immediate medical attention."

"Oh God..." Sara murmured again and felt his pulse – still there, barely.

"I – I didn't mean to." the kid stammered finally, coming closer. "I didn't see him. I didn't see him."

Sara looked at him blankly and then turned to Nick as the words fell from her mouth in a whisper: "Who's going to tell Catherine?"

* * *

------------------------- 

Catherine Willows had kept her surname after marrying Gil a couple of years ago, claiming it was to avoid confusion at work but was forced to admit that she didn't really think 'Grissom' would suit her all too well. He'd only laughed – fair enough, he'd said, fair enough.

It was Jim Brass who broke the news. An accident, he'd told her gently, the driver was some stupid kid. Sara and Nick were with him, he was being taken to Desert Palms - he didn't say how serious. Needless to say, Catherine had tuned out all words after 'accident' and numbly nodded, following him to his car. The pair of them arrived just moments after the ambulance brought Grissom into the trauma room of the Desert Palms ER.

The doctors and nurses and paramedics worked fast. The orders they shouted across his body at each other were incomprehensible but Catherine couldn't hear much anyway. She only stood, her eyes fixed on Grissom's inanimate face, not even feeling it when Sara put her arm around her. Catherine turned her head around the room briefly before looking back at her husband, the only face she recognised in the room – everyone else was a blur, a mess of sadness and worry and fear. She did recognise the paddles they brought out, though, knowing them only to be the last resort before people died.

"Oh Christ," she whispered and Sara looked at her – it was the first thing she'd said all this time. Sara opened her mouth to offer comforting words to the woman whose eyes were only now filling with tears, but when Sara saw Grissom's chest leap up with the electrical pulse, all language died on her tongue.

It went on forever. Compressions, shocks and, all the while, the room was filled with an eerie sustained beep.

"It can't end here...it can't end here," Catherine repeated in a whisper and held on frantically to Sara, unconsciously digging her nails deep into the brunette's shoulder. Sara flinched but said and did nothing. The medical team grew tired. They looked at each other. They looked at the clock. The background beep remained long and held.

"Time of d-" one of them began, making to remove a latex glove when Catherine found her voice.

"Keep going!" she screamed suddenly, out of nowhere in a haunting and stricken voice. It was like nothing anyone in the room had ever heard. Jim Brass winced in the corner and Nick turned away. Catherine was almost bent double in a strange kind of desperate grief, her hands clasped to her chest and tears running down her cheeks. "Keep going – for the love of God, keep going."

Sara caught the eye of the one of the paramedics in the room as she tried to keep Catherine standing up.

"Hank – please." she murmured with appealing eyes. Hank, still holding the guilt from the way she'd looked at him after admitting how she knew he'd screwed her over, had always wanted to make it up to Sara. So he obliged.

"Charge to 360." he mumbled to an intern and resumed compressions on Grissom's chest. "Clear."

Catherine was now sobbing, sagging in Sara's arms. Warrick, who'd just appeared having run down the hospital halls with Greg, grabbed hold of Catherine and held her standing with Sara. He stared at his boss on the table, at Sara who looked frozen and at Catherine. He'd never seen Catherine like this, no-one had. She'd always been the epitome of strength in any horrific situation but now...now she was struggling to even stay standing in Warrick and Sara's arms, sobbing and shouting at the doctors to keep going.

"Keep going. Please – please keep going."

And through it all, the unbroken beep.

"Keep going."

"Ms Willows..."

"KEEP GOING."

"Clear."

There was an emptiness in the air. The beep had stopped. It now came at regular beats, short and steady.

"We've got a rhythm."

The medics looked at each other, not hiding their surprise. For the team, there had never been a sweeter sound than that uniform electronic pulse and, caught just in time by Sara and Warrick, Catherine Willows, weak with relief, passed out.

- o -


	2. My Comatose

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Thanks very much for the early reviews; it was really nice to get them – TrishG, cherishedcrush, Megara1 and D.M.A.S. Keep on reviewing! I'm really a bit worried that it sounds too rushed but this was meant to be just a side story to keep me running with a GCR fix while I write the mainly WS fic Wake The Hope so I didn't think too much about this one...enough excuses. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Two. My Comatose**

- o -

As soon as a nearby nurse had revived Catherine Willows, she was off again, demanding to be taken to her husband. They did, of course, oblige and led her to the ICU. If any of them had been prepared to see the way the defibrillator had jolted life back into Gil Grissom's heart, they weren't prepared for what they saw in the Intensive Care Unit. There was just something about seeing their boss, their friend, their family member lying hooked up to machines with wires snaking in and out of him and tubes sucking and breathing for him, that filled them with a strange emptiness.

Though the rest of them hung back, reluctant and afraid, Catherine marched straight into the room and sat by his bedside.

"Will he wake up?" she asked quietly when she heard Warrick, Jim and Nick come in. Sara lingered in the doorway. Greg found couldn't go in at all.

"I – uh – I don't know, Cath," Warrick replied after nobody else did. Sara took a few more steps in and Catherine turned vacantly to look at her.

"Someone needs to pick up Lindsey. She finishes school in ten minutes – she'll be wondering where I am," her voice trailed off into nothingness but Sara nodded as Catherine fixed her eyes back on comatose Grissom.

"Greg," Sara murmured softly in the doorway. Greg didn't hear her for a moment, staring shocked and wordless at his boss. "Greg?" Greg jumped, looked at Sara. She offered him a grim smile and squeezed his hand.

"Go get Lindsey from school." Sara ordered him kindly. Greg swallowed.

"What do I tell her?" he croaked.

"Tell her her mother needs her." Sara suggested. Greg nodded, took a breath and walked in shaky steps back down the hall as Sara went into the room, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

------------------------ 

Lindsey held tightly onto Greg's sleeve as they wound their way through the maze of hospital corridors. She said nothing when she saw her adoptive father lying there.

"Is he - ?" she began but after that words failed her.

"No, no," Greg assured her. "He's in a coma, Linds. There's a chance he might still wake up." Lindsey nodded and walked boldly into the room.

"Hi Mom," she whispered in her mother's ear. Catherine didn't even see her come in but started at the sound of her voice and instantly wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"Oh Lindsey," Catherine choked and, failing all attempts of control, buried her head into her eleven-year old's shoulder. Jim Brass made to move forward and separate them, seeing the fear etched on the young girls face as she hugged her mother back.

"It's alright, Mom," she murmured uncertainly, fixing her eyes on the clean white wall opposite her. Catherine only wept harder.

"Cath – Catherine," Brass gently prised her arms away from her daughter and pulled up a chair to sit beside her. Lindsey stood for a while, shaking and pale. Then she turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

--------------------------- 

"How're you holding up, kiddo?" Warrick asked in an attempt to sound optimistic. Lindsey looked up dazedly from where she sat on a red plastic chair in the hall. Warrick took the chair to her right and Sara on her left.

"Better than Mom." was Lindsey's dull reply as she looked at her hands. Sara sighed and leant forwards, looking sideways at the little girl.

"It's okay, Linds," she told her gently. "It's okay to be scared or upset, kid. You don't have to stay strong for your Mom, you know? There're enough of us to do that for you."

Lindsey nodded but her face stayed stony when she buried it in Sara's shoulder. She wasn't crying, only trying to find some comfort as Sara instinctively put her arm around her.

"Hey kid," Warrick spoke again, exchanging glances with Sara over the top of Lindsey's blonde head. "Your Mom'll probably be staying here so how would you like to sleep the night at our place?"

Sara smiled in agreement; they'd moved in together a year ago and gotten engaged a few months later.

"Okay." Lindsey answered, muffled. Warrick nodded, sighed and sunk his head in his hands.

"Okay."

* * *

----------------------- 

The hospital porter brought in a mattress for Catherine to sleep on but she didn't bat an eyelid, sitting in the same chair and still holding firmly onto Gil's hand. Brass, Nick and Greg took turns in sitting in the room with her after Warrick and Sara had taken Lindsey home with them before it got too late.

"He blinked!" Catherine spoke suddenly. She turned to Nick who was standing in the room with her and pointed excitedly at Grissom's face. "His eyelid moved, did you see?"

"It was just a reflex, Cath," Nick told her heavily. It'd been the third time she'd done that.

"Right. A reflex." Catherine remembered, dully and sank back into her frozen position of vigil.

* * *

------------------------- 

Sara paced their living room floor, restlessly. Lindsey had fallen asleep in the car and had been carried into the spare room bed by Warrick just minutes before. Now Warrick sat on the sofa, silent, unmoving and the complete opposite to his overwrought fiancée.

"Do you want some coffee?" she suggested suddenly. Warrick blinked.

"Huh?"

"Coffee – do you want some?" Sara repeated. Warrick frowned.

"Oh – okay, sure." and watched her walk into the kitchen before following her in. Sara moved through the kitchen, opening cupboards and rattling mugs distractedly.

"Sara – " he began in a warning tone as she flitted from drawer to drawer, forgetting where they kept the spoons.

"Can you pick up some more coffee beans when you're at the store next?" Sara rambled, ignoring him.

"Sara – "

"There's enough here but we're on our last packet." Her voice was constricted and edgy. "How do we get through this much coffee so fast?"

"Sara, your hands are shaking." Warrick cut her off firmly. She looked at her white hands and observed them trembling violently with a smile.

"Oh – so they are." she commented cheerily and carried on darting through the kitchen until her uncontrolled fingers slipped and she dropped a mug to the floor with a crash. She jumped in shock, ceramic chips across the tiles, and was speechless for a moment.

"Oh Sara..." Warrick drew her into a tight hug and she stopped trying to move, stopped trying to resist him.

"You didn't see it hit him." she whispered into his chest. "You didn't – you didn't see."

"No, I know, honey. I know," he murmured soothingly as her shoulders began to shake. From another part of his grandmother's old house, Warrick heard someone else crying.

"Lindsey." Sara realised, looking up and wiping the tears from her face. She smiled a brave smile that Warrick returned and they went to comfort the girl, leaving the ruins of a coffee cup lying scattered on the kitchen floor.

* * *

------------------------------- 

Exactly a week later, with Lindsey still sleeping at Warrick and Sara's, and Catherine still sitting tensely by Grissom's bedside, it was the middle of the night and Catherine had finally fallen asleep alone on the foam mattress. Though the rest of the team tried to be there as much as they could, with two supervisors off work, they were needed more than ever to pick up the slack.

In the darkness, the sheets stirred. Gil Grissom, seemingly lifeless for a week, suddenly became very aware of having been intubated. He opened his eyes to an oppressive darkness and, panicked, began to cough, his stomach convulsing, trying to force out the foreign tube in his trachea.

Catherine was awake in a moment and, seeing her husband struggling to sit up with flailing arms, ran barefoot with hap-hazard urgency down the hall of the sterile hospital to alert the doctor on night duty, breathless with exhilaration.

- o -


	3. The Who

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Hey again, thanks to Megara1, D.M.A.S. and midnightexpress for the very lovely reviews. I won't delay this any longer, but please continue to read and review because it's great. Thanks. GCR moments will pick up soon, this is just the beginning. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Three. The Who**

- o -

Thank God for speed-dial, Catherine thought that night as she ran through them all. Jim Brass – speed dial three, was just about to head home to catch some sleep when he got the call. On speed dial four, Sara sleepily picked up their house phone beside their bed. She hurriedly got Lindsey up and the two of them bundled themselves into her Tahoe as fast as they could. Speed dial five was answered by Nick's machine so Catherine skipped to speed dial nine and rang the lab, rounding up Nick, Warrick and Greg all in one go.

The six of them arrived there before the doctors had even finished running precautionary tests on Gil and they found Catherine standing in the hall, watching anxiously through the window as the doctors carefully removed the tube that ran down Grissom's throat.

"Mom!" Lindsey yelled and ran to her, despite being woken up at midnight.

"Linds!" Catherine grinned with equal enthusiasm, smiling the first real smile she'd had in days. She swept the little girl up into her arms and they watched together through the glass until the doctor beckoned them in.

There was genuine tired surprise on Gil Grissom's face as the swarm of people rushed in to see him, almost as though he hadn't expected to be cared about this much. He looked almost amused when Catherine dashed in and, hands on either side of his face, kissed him.

"Gil, honey – I was so worried," Catherine beamed and kissed him again. Grissom laughed slightly.

"At this moment, this is probably a very stupid thing to say," he began hoarsely with a shy smile. "After all, it's not every day a beautiful woman kisses you without warning but – who are you?"

Catherine froze, the smile fading from her face for just a moment. She laughed nervously.

"You're kidding me, right?" she studied his expression closely. "You really don't know who I am?" Grissom looked at her with a hint of guilt.

"Should I?" he asked hesitantly.

Sara brings her hand unconsciously to her mouth, feeling Warrick's grip tighten on her other hand. Standing in front of them, Nick stares, disbelieving. Beside his bed, Catherine's legs give way again and she sits suddenly in the nearby chair.

"Someone get the doctor back again," Jim Brass broke the silence eventually. Greg nodded and sprinted out of the door.

* * *

----------------------- 

Everything was happening so fast. He was in a hospital, he'd gathered that much. He reckoned he'd probably done something to his right leg and ribs because they hurt like a bitch. He sat up a bit but stopped when he felt a sudden pain in his right wrist and collar bone. Things weren't looking too good. There were two doctors standing by his bedside now, asking his questions and writing things down – blocking his view of the blonde lady who'd rushed in to greet him. She didn't look so pleased to see him anymore.

"Perhaps it's just a loss of social memory," one doctor murmured to the other and they called on the other strangers in the room to give them a hand. Things must be desperate, Grissom mused, if they're calling on these young people to help them out – they didn't look like trained doctors.

"Gil," one of them began. This was the one with the shaved head who seemed the most lucid out of all of them. He should count himself lucky, Gil supposed; he would certainly be a little suspicious of the spiky haired one if he tried anything. "Gil, what's a 419?"

He knew that one.

"Dead body found," Grissom responded immediately. The older guy in the corner stepped forwards suddenly. He looked like a cop – what was this about?

"A 422?" the older guy pressed.

"Sick or injured officer," Gil replied.

"What's my name?" a small blonde girl piped up, joining in. Cute kid but perhaps she didn't quite get the hang of the game, Gil thought.

"I have no idea, sweetie," he told her kindly. There was a sharp intake of breath from one of the doctors who muttered in a low whisper to the other one, heading out of the room to talk in private.

Gil turned to the blonde lady in the chair beside him with a smile, wondering what had happened to her affectionate greetings, thinking perhaps he shouldn't have opened his damned mouth.

"So, what's your name?" Gil spoke up. The lady smiled sadly back at him.

"Catherine," she answered quietly. She looked upset and her eyes were red-rimmed. Maybe now wasn't a good time for hitting on someone but, at any rate, she'd been pretty cheerful when she first came in, so Grissom took a deep breath and thought: what the hell?

"You're very beautiful," he told her earnestly. "Are you married?"

Catherine looked like she was thinking about the answer long and hard, the sad smile on her lips.

"Yes," she nodded finally, in a voice that grew quieter all the time. The older man in the corner looked at his feet as the spiky haired kid tensed his jaw nervously. The little girl watched in confusion.

"Oh," said Gil, disappointed. And then he asked, hopefully: "Happily married?"

Catherine laughed suddenly at his optimism and looked at her hands in her lap. There was a ring on her finger but, when she looked up again, there was melancholy in her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered her answer, offering up another smile that cracked and faltered. "We're - we're very happy."

Grissom looked at her, tempted to add that she didn't look very happy but that might be insensitive. Maybe her husband had just died or something – it wouldn't be polite. Then Catherine stood up and left the room. The young couple standing at the foot of his bed, a black guy and a brunette holding hands, exchanged uneasy glances as though Grissom's answers had been wrong. The shaved-headed guy who'd begun the questioning looked to the others before following the blonde woman out.

As far as days went, though Grissom himself couldn't recall any specifics, this was turning out to be one hell of a strange day.

- o -


	4. Social Memory

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Thanks very much for the reviews. I think I got quite a few more for the last chapter so that was very inspiring. Thank you to dawn2323, Megara1, Daisyangel, D.M.A.S, sitarra and cherishedcrush. Cherishedcrush, I assume you left out the 'r' in 'crush' – I'm sorry to hear you haven't had a very good week. Hope things work out for you soon. Therefore, this chapter is dedicated to you :) Anyway, let's get on with it. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Four. Social Memory**

- o -

"Catherine – Cath!" Nick called down the corridor, running to catch up with her. She stopped but didn't turn around until he reached her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She sighed with a watery smile.

"Just when you think things are looking up, huh, Nicky?" Catherine commented in a heavy voice. He hugged her.

"Cath, you gonna go back in?" he asked and felt her nod hesitantly against his shoulder.

"Just...just give me a second," she murmured. He tipped her head up with a gentle hand under her chin and smiled.

"It'll be alright," he assured her. "You don't have to believe it now, but it'll be alright." Catherine nodded.

"You're right; I don't believe it," she muttered darkly and wandered off down the hall. Nick watched her for a moment, sunk his hands into his pockets and strolled back into the room.

* * *

--------

"Okay – okay, let's try again," Grissom said with a frown. "It's Jim...Nick...Greg...Warrick and Sara...and Lindsey. Right?" Greg grinned.

"Close – I'm Greg and he's Nick," he corrected him. Grissom rolled his eyes. He was never good with names and now he was just expected to learn all this stuff.

"And...and Catherine." Gil added, his eyes drifting to the empty doorway. But the next person to appear in the doorway wasn't Catherine but one of the doctors. He shuffled his clipboard and looked around at the room.

"We think we know what's happening here," he announced.

"Wait – wait for Catherine to get here," Brass stopped him. The doctor shook his head.

"I've already spoken to Ms Willows and explained the situation. She said she was going home for a while but would be back later," the doctor replied. "Now Mr Grissom here, it appears, is suffering from a form of amnesia – often caused by trauma or being in a coma – but in this case, it is only affecting his social memory."

"Which means...?" Greg prompted.

"Which means that the memory of skills learnt such as that associated with his job are retained, hence his remembering of the police scanner codes but his personal memories, memories of faces and people and events, are lost. It's very common in coma patients." The doctor said, as though it were meant to assure them.

"Lost?" Sara repeated.

"Not so much lost as unable to be reached," the doctor verified. "They are all still there but are not accessible. That's why it's extremely important for you, his family and friends, to begin rebuilding the memories in a hope that something along the way will act as a key and bring everything back. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Brass answered for them. "But this 'key' – how long does it take to find?" The doctor only shrugged.

"In my experience, it's impossible to tell. Sometimes it takes a couple of days, sometimes the patient never finds their way back. It's all just trial and error." The doctor gazed around at the expressionless faces, nodded satisfied he'd got through to them, and then he, too, left the room.

"How was she, Nick?" Warrick spoke finally. Nick sighed.

"About as well as can be expected," he replied. "She didn't tell me she was going home, though."

"I think we should all go home," Brass interjected. "Or back to work. I'll stop off and check on Catherine on my way home."

"What's wrong with Catherine?" Grissom spoke up from the bed; they'd almost forgotten he was there. Sara looked at each uncertain face before sitting in the chair Catherine had vacated and looking at him.

"Gil, here's the thing," she began. "You were in an accident last week and have been in a coma since then. I guess you gathered that part." Grissom nodded and Sara continued: "We all work with you at the Las Vegas Crime Lab – and Catherine is your wife."

"You're kidding me," Grissom said incredulously. "What'd she be doing with me?" Sara smiled at his self-deprecation.

"She loves you," she answered simply.

"And you loved her." Warrick added from the doorway. "Very much."

The past tense in his words made Grissom flinch. He stared at the faces in turn, desperately wishing that they'd ring some bells. He loved her. He had loved her. He suddenly remembered and understood the look in her face when he'd been asking her about her marital status. And the way she'd looked at him when he told her he didn't remember her. The way she'd looked at him... Gil was helpless; what had he lost?

"We should go," Nick said finally. Sara stood up.

"Yeah, you've still got school tomorrow, Linds." Warrick chipped in. Lindsey nodded and took his hand as she, Sara and Warrick walked out of the room.

"We'll see you tomorrow or something, Griss," Greg called as a goodbye, following them out. Nick left too and, as Brass shut the door behind him, he paused.

"Try to get some rest," he told him, with nothing else to say. Then he closed the door and Grissom was left alone.

* * *

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Jim Brass pressed the doorbell again and stood back, peering through the windows of Catherine and Grissom's house.

"Catherine?" he called at the closed front door. "Catherine, I know you're there – your car's outside. Open the door." Nothing. "Catherine?"

With a sigh, Brass pulled out his spare key and, unlocking the door, prepared himself for the worst. He opened the door into darkness and paused in the hallway, listening. After a while, he heard faint sobbing from the living room and went to her. Catherine was sitting on the floor in the dark. Scattered all around her were collections of old photos, old letters, old memories. When Brass stepped closer, she turned to him with shining, unfocussed eyes.

"The doctor said it might help to bring in pictures and things," she explained hoarsely. "To try and help him...remember."

At a loss for words, Brass knelt down beside her and held her. She turned her face into his chest, breaking down again but not letting her tight grip go of the almost empty bottle of vodka in her hand.

- o -


	5. Are You Sitting Comfortably?

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Ah, I was gonna hold out for more reviews but I haven't done all too badly. And plus, you've all been really nice so you deserve better. Sorry about all the angst. This chapter isn't all too great; it's just mainly bridging a gap. Please still review it though! And thanks to everyone who've put me on story alert: angelaumbrello, cygnet1, hot-punk, Juliette7179, sparklingmidnight, tcrowe and xcatch. Ya gotta love the new extras on the site! Thanks especially much though to my reviewers, you are supercool: Lissa88, cherishedcrush, D.M.A.S (did you, by the way, mean that the rest of it isn't believable? I'm not pissed off, I'm just forever paranoid of writing something too OOC. Ya gotta tell me about these things, man!) kate and bloodymary2. I'm shutting up now. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Five. Are You Sitting Comfortably?**

- o -****

In the gloom of their unlit living room, Catherine drew back from him, suddenly remembering something.

"Where's Lindsey?" she asked frantically. If she'd lost her too..."Oh God; I left her there."

"It's okay – Sara took her back. She's been staying with Warrick and Sara all week – remember?" Brass reminded her. Catherine paused for a while before nodding blearily. She remembered.

"Can I see her?" Her voice was so helpless and small, as though she felt she didn't quite deserve to see her own daughter but Brass nodded, helping her to her feet.

"Sure you can; I'll drive you over." he assured her, though it was easier said than done as he tried to put her shoes on her feet. Catherine, in her drunk and anguished state, was uncooperative, to say the least. In the end, Jim Brass half-dragged her into his car, having to strap her into the seat and wondering vaguely what her neighbours would make of all of this.

* * *

------- 

Woken by knocking on the front door, Sara crawled out of bed and padded barefoot through the living-room, dressed in one of Warrick's over-sized shirts, yawning as she went. Warrick was meant to be finishing up his shift about now and perhaps he'd forgotten his key.

Instead, on opening the door, she was greeted by Jim Brass holding up a swaying Catherine.

"She wanted to see Lindsey," Brass explained, as though that accounted for everything – the glazed look in her eyes, the drunkenness, the odd shoes. Sara blinked a couple of times, wondering if she was still asleep until Catherine grabbed her arm.

"Can I see her?" she requested. Sara shook herself.

"Uh – of course, come in." Sara replied in a throaty voice. Next to Brass' parked car, Warrick's Tahoe drew up and he got out, surprised to see the three of them on the doorstep.

"She came to see Lindsey," Sara informed him pointedly. Warrick looked at the dazed Catherine with a kind of sadness.

"Have you got it from here?" Brass asked Warrick who nodded as Brass returned to his car and drove off.

"Whoa – watch yourself there Cath," Warrick quickly grabbed her as she stumbled.

Sara bit her lip but said nothing as Warrick half-carried her inside. Catherine blinked groggily when Sara turned on the living room light and brought up a hand to rub her eyes only to find her fingers occupied in grasping the neck of the liquor bottle.

"Catherine..." Sara began, gently prising the bottle from her fingers and swirling the half-inch of alcohol left inside. "Did you open this today?"

"What does it matter?" she answered bitterly and, thinking of nothing to say, Sara put the bottle down and led her to the spare room with Warrick still supporting her.

"Hey Lindsey," Catherine whispered softly, falling to her knees by the sleeping girl's bedside. "Hey angel." Lindsey didn't wake up as Catherine stroked her blonde hair and gazed at her. "I'm sorry..." Catherine went on, her voice starting to shake. "I'm so sorry, baby."

"Come on, Cath," Warrick intervened eventually as Catherine got more wound up. He picked her up off the floor and dragged her away from her daughter. Catherine went with him, reluctantly but did not protest when he lay her down on the sofa, taking off her shoes and tucking a blanket around her.

"I'm sorry." she went on whispering until Sara knelt down in front of her.

"Catherine?" Sara addressed her in sterner tones, looking the woman straight in the eye. "Catherine, you've gotta hold it together. In a couple of days I want you to come back to work, okay? We need you there and you need to keep busy. We can all go and see Gil whenever we can and we'll help him remember. We'll help him – he'll be alright. Okay? But you have to hold it together, Catherine – for Lindsey."

Catherine nodded, pulling the blanket tightly around herself.

"You're right, Sara. You're right," she admitted. "I'm sorry. Thank you." Sara smiled at her as Catherine closed her eyes.

"It's no problem." she answered softly, standing up and looking across at Warrick.

"We should catch some sleep," he commented after a moment of silence and followed Sara back to bed.

"You think she'll be alright?" Sara wondered out loud, turning on her pillow to face him. Warrick reached for her and pulled her close.

"Who? Catherine? Yeah, she'll be okay," he assured her. "She's tough."

* * *

------ 

By the weekend, Catherine had worked two shifts and gotten back into her work. She'd picked herself up, taken Lindsey back home and sorted this out as though it were a case. It became a new routine; every spare moment for her and the rest of the team would be spent going to see Gil and decorating the hostile walls of his room with photos and drawings – mapping out his past in the hope that he'd find a route he recognised.

On Saturday morning, she was the first one there and chatted amiably with Gil about nothing at all until everyone else had arrived. Then she pulled up a chair beside his bed and, drawing strength from her friends around her, took a deep breath and smiled.

"Right – where do we begin?" Catherine launched, looking at Gil's clueless face and taking his hand.

"At the beginning?" he suggested, pleased to see her looking happier lately. She leant back in her chair, running a hand through her hair and crossing her legs.

"We go back a very long way, Gil," she warned him. "More than twenty years."

"I want to hear everything," he answered; it was true, he wanted to find out everything that had led them together, to try and regain the life he only knew he'd lost. The rest of the team looked to Catherine, not verbally admitting they all wanted to know how it had all begun. Without taking her eyes off of him, Catherine nodded, smiled again and obliged.

- o -

_(You see, kids, this is where all the GCR really begins. It'll be a lot of memories and flashbacks. not all happy. But you'll have to trust me on this one. Thanks for reading this chapter; please do me a favour and review it.)_


	6. Across A Crowded Room

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**You reviewers are just really great, aren't ya? Thanks very much! That's to hot-punk, Sw33tangelgrl (twice – ha!), D.M.A.S (you're writing for what? I think ff net cut out a link or something...), Danni, Gail (epic-long review! Thanks!), P/CG/Cfan, Lissa88, Ladybug07, Stephanie, September and cherishedcrush. It was more than I expected so thank you all very much. And keep reviewing! In fact, just keep reading. It's nice to know you're enjoying it. There's still plenty more to come. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Six. Across A Crowded Room**

- o -

_Gil Grissom made his way through the seething mass of people on the ground floor of The French Palace, sent by his supervisor on overtime to find and question the bartender who'd served yet another tourist found dead in his hotel room following a gambling victory. It happened all the time in Vegas though Gil very much doubted that the city put it in their tourism leaflets._

"_Coming through – hey, watch it, buddy." A waiter snapped at him, balancing carefully a tray of cocktails as he waded through the crowd._

"_Sorry," Grissom mumbled inaudibly. He hated these situations: the people, the noise, the confusion – it was almost too much to take._

"_As promised, gentlemen, I've got a treat for you," a drawling voice on The French Palace's audio system interrupted the throbbing music as curtains drew back on the stage. "A hot favourite in Vegas with everyone who comes – and I mean hot – our very own French Palace dancers! Don't forget to tip your waitresses, gentlemen, cos I can tell you these beautiful ladies don't come cheap!"_

_That was when he saw her. Under a sudden flood of bright swirling lights, as the music came back on, that was when he saw her. Ironically, it was her face that caught his attention; the way she flashed a smile that never reached her eyes at every guy who offered up dollar bills to her and the way her eyes so clearly said she was thinking about something completely different as she moved with ease across the stage. She looked so spectacularly bored with everything she was doing, seemingly oblivious to the hollers and whistles of the onlookers; Gil had never been more captivated by anything in his life before._

"_Hey buddy, seriously – you gonna stand there all night?" the waiter grumbled, returning. "You paid yet?" Gil shook himself and flashed his ID at the guy distractedly._

"_I'm from the Las Vegas Crime Lab," he explained, pulling himself together. "I came to question your bartender here. Richard Carlisle." The waiter raised an eyebrow._

"_Well no offence, man, but you ain't gonna find Rich up there in our girls' cleavage, ya know." the waiter smirked curtly before weaving off through the crowds again. Gil flushed slightly, glad for the cover of darkness in the packed room and went to find Rich Carlisle._

_By the time he'd finished questioning Rich, in between Rich still taking orders, the dancers had long since left the stage and he had gotten no further with the case. At any rate, he'd been working solidly for 18 hours and relented, ordering a drink._

"_Can I get a beer, Richie?" a breezy voice called beside him. He turned to see the blonde woman, having changed and taken off most of her make-up, leaning over the bar and calling down to Rich down the other end. Rich looked up and grinned._

"_For you, Catherine, anything," he replied smoothly, sauntering back up to uncap a bottle and handing it to her. "Want a glass?" Catherine fixed him with a cynical look._

"_Do I look like a woman of refinement?" she asked him wryly and smiled when he didn't reply. "No thanks." Rich chuckled and shook his head as he was hailed down to the other end of the bar again. Grissom looked across at Catherine who perched on the edge of her bar stool and picked absent-mindedly at the silver label of the beer bottle._

"_You were good," Grissom found himself saying, shyly. Catherine looked up, surprised._

"_Huh?"_

"_Up there," Gil nodded towards the stage. "You were good." Catherine smiled politely at him and avoided his eyes. Great, she thought, another pervert. She'd always hoped she looked different enough up on stage to real life so that she'd be unrecognisable when she was off-duty but there was always one or two who watched too closely. _

"_Thanks." she answered shortly. Grissom chewed on his lip, wondering what else he could say and not wanting to let this woman go just yet._

"_You must get that all the time though, I guess," he continued, his voice growing fainter. Catherine jerked her head in a nod._

"_Yeah. I do." Catherine said bluntly. Grissom opened his mouth to say something else but Catherine saw him and stood up to go. "Nice talking to you and all," she told him, distinctly not meaning it. "But I've got to go. See you around."_

_And then she was gone, swallowed up by the seething crowd. Grissom sighed and put down his drink. Maybe it was time for him to go too._

_

* * *

_------_  
_

"That doesn't sound like the kind of situation that would lead to us getting married," Gil commented with a smile. Catherine grinned back, happier remembering how things used to be than thinking about what was happening now.

"I told you, it was a long time ago. A lot of stuff happens in between – you'll see," she assured him, getting quite into the whole story-telling thing. The rest of the team around her had drawn up seats around the room, listening intently to something they'd always wondered about.

"You were really that shy?" Greg spoke up curiously. Gil shrugged.

"Yeah, he really was," Catherine supplied for him. "I guess I can't have helped much, I wasn't exactly very friendly." Brass chuckled.

"No, that sounds like the Gil Grissom I know," he grinned. "Real smooth with the women, you know."

Catherine smiled around at the room; this was turning out to be easier than she thought it would be. "Shall I go on?"

* * *

----- 

"_Well if you're so confident, smart guy, then you won't have a problem with us taking your DNA, will you?" Brass folded his arms and looked down at the scruffy guy sitting sulkily at the table. The guy was just a little bit younger than himself, who had only recently really gotten into his role as a newly qualified homicide detective. He was working on the whole routine, the self-assured walk, the slamming hands on tables and looking like he meant business._

"_Not at all," the suspect replied coolly. Brass jerked his head to his colleague._

"_Gil –" he prompted and Grissom deftly brought out a mouth swab, swabbing the inside of the guy's mouth._

"_But I didn't do it..." the suspect added. _

_Brass shot him a withering look. It was sort of fun, this whole business of proving someone was lying and seeing their reactions. "We'll see about that, shall we? And maybe when we prove you wrong, you won't be so tough."_

"_Alright, so this is the Las Vegas Crime Lab..." a distant voice drifted through the halls._

"_Aha – the students," Brass muttered to Gil as a troop of eager people came down the hall._

"_Huh?" Gil looked up and immediately dropped the mouth swab on the floor. "Oh shit." He bent to pick it up. They couldn't use it now; they'd have to take another one._

_Brass rolled his eyes but Grissom didn't notice. Coming down the hall among a group of keen students, was that girl again – Catherine._

"_Ballistics is down the hall that way," their lecturer went on, pointing off in the left. "You'll get a chance to see that later on in the day..."_

_Catherine looked around her. It was the third time she'd been taken here and she loved it every time, just wandering through the corridors and thinking that one day, one day she'd be working here. And then she saw him. He smiled briefly before quickly looking away and concentrated on swabbing the mouth of some guy sitting in front of him. The guy crossed his arms contemptuously. Catherine groaned inwardly and hoped she wasn't blushing as much as she felt she was. That guy from the club still remembered her. And he wasn't some sleaze – he was a man with her dream job. And he knew what she really was. He knew she spent her nights dancing for dollar bills in a tacky, smoky room to music playing overly loudly._

"_Catherine Grey? You paying attention?" the lecturer snapped. Catherine was jolted back to real life._

"_Yes, I am. Sorry," she answered, tearing her eyes away from the CSI._

_At the sound of her name, her voice, Gil Grissom dropped the second mouth swab on the floor._

"_Jeez, Gil. Hold it together," Brass muttered to his friend._

"_I know, I know, I'm sorry," Grissom mumbled vaguely and reached for yet another mouth swab._

"_Third time's a charm," the suspect assured him in a voice that dripped with sarcasm. Brass only narrowed his eyes at the arrogant man but Grissom didn't hear anything._

- o -_  
_


	7. Strike One

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Thanks so much again for reviews: sitarra, Lissa88 (heehee...yes you did say that), September, bloodymary2, D.M.A.S, cherishedcrush and Lynh. Thanks also to the manager of the C2 'A Series of Gil and Catherine Stories' who put this fic and the 'On The...' trilogy up. That was immensely cool! Anyway, yes, please keep those reviews coming in if y'all have the time. Some more flashback-GCR-love, because ya gotta love it! Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Seven. Strike One**

- o -

_Catherine Willows pinched her false eyelashes between her false nails and began to carefully peel them off. That was the thing about this place that bugged her so much; everything was false and that was the gritty fantasy behind the whole business. She felt a large hand on her shoulder and looked up at the blond-haired man who stood behind her in the mirror._

"_What is it now, Billy?" she asked the club manager exasperatedly. "I'm on again in half an hour and I have an essay to write in between."_

"_Well, change of plan, Jane Austen – you're not in any of the shows tonight," Billy told her. Catherine's eyes lit up momentarily before she turned around to face him, suspicious._

"_Oh really? And why's that?" she posed, warily._

"_Were you always so cynical or did it just develop?" Billy kidded, avoiding the answer._

"_Billy!"_

"_Fine, fine – some guy's booked you in Booth 4 for the rest of the night." he admitted. Catherine groaned._

"_You're kidding me. All night?" she repeated and Billy nodded._

"_Hey, you get to make an extra buck or two," he tried positively but knew anyway how much his girls hated being booked for private dances. It was none of his business what went on in those small rooms behind closed doors but from what he'd heard from the girls themselves, they got a pretty rough time. _

_Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed, putting the eyelashes back on again as Billy snuck away. As if being paraded on stage in front of drunken and ogling men wasn't bad enough. Sure, the money was pretty great but if there was one thing that could make you feel as cheap as shit, it was the private dances. Christ, she wondered why some of these men didn't just hire a hooker but perhaps they found they could kid themselves into believing this was less seedy if they had to pay more for it. She changed her clothes to something that was, in her opinion, even worse than what little she already had on and reluctantly made her way to Booth 4._

"_Well that's a relief," a voice greeted her when she stepped into the dark room. "I thought I might be a little under-dressed."_

_Catherine found herself looking into the eyes of the CSI from the crime lab. He smiled awkwardly and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. She suddenly felt, of all things, extremely self-conscious before pulling herself together: as much as she hated it, she had a job to do. Cringing at her own sordidness she did so, she ran her tongue over her lips and pushed him down onto the plush chairs seductively. To her mortification, he began to chuckle slightly._

"_Don't laugh," she snapped, hotly. "It's not funny."_

_He shook his head, still grinning. "I'm sorry, of course it's not – but what are you doing?" She exhaled angrily to try and cover up her extreme embarrassment._

"_My job." she retorted. "It's what you paid for, isn't it? This is what you wanted, isn't it? To see me humiliate myself for your entertainment?" The young CSI looked taken aback for a moment and Catherine sighed._

"_I'm sorry – please don't tell my boss I said that. I just get so sick of this all the time." she admitted quietly, looking to the floor. Grissom surveyed the woman carefully – he hadn't realised the emotional effect of all of this on her; he just assumed it was a bit of fun._

"_Hey, Catherine," he tipped her head to face him. "It is Catherine, right?" She nodded with a half-smile. "Well my name's Gil Grissom – and I didn't come here to try and humiliate you. I'm sorry if it seemed that way."_

"_Well you kind of did buy me out for the whole of the night to do everything but fuck you, didn't you?" she answered bitterly. Grissom's mouth fell open._

"_No – no, I didn't do that at all." he told her. He smiled at her. "Want to get out of here?" _

_Catherine looked at him cautiously. Sure, he seemed like a nice guy now but how many times had she fallen for that 'I'm a nice guy' routine? Too many times; the list of names was endless – what could she say? She was a sucker for that sort of thing; she always believed there was a Prince Charming out there for her. When would she learn?_

"_Where to?" she asked. Grissom shrugged._

"_How about I take you out to dinner – it's past 11 and I guess you haven't eaten," he suggested. Catherine smiled but then it disappeared when she looked down._

"_Dressed like this?" she looked doubtful._

"_Haven't you got something else to wear?"_

"_In the changing rooms, but I can't go back there – I meant to be working," she answered miserably._

"_Here – " Grissom handed her his long, black overcoat. "Wear this." Catherine looked at him and slipped it on with a beam; perhaps the nice-guy routine was the real deal._

"_Can I get my bag? It's in the lockers next to the stage," she asked._

"_Of course." Grissom followed her out of the room as she pulled the coat tightly around her. "It's your night off."_

_He hung around beside her as she closed the locker and slipped her bag over her shoulder until he saw a dark-haired guy approach her. The tall, burly man grabbed her shoulder from behind._

"_Hey, Catherine – you're meant to be dancing right now." the man barked. _

_Catherine paled but didn't turn around, looking pleadingly at Gil. Without knowing what he was doing, Grissom threw the man's hand off Catherine's shoulder and squared up to him, fury blazing in his eyes._

"_Hey – what the hell do you think you're doing?" Grissom shouted at the man. "She's not one of your sleazy dancers – that's my wife you're talking to." The man held up his hands in submission._

"_Whoa – whoa, calm down, sir. I didn't know..." he stammered. "A little misunderstanding – I thought she was one of the..."_

"_Yeah I know what you thought, smart guy," Grissom continued heatedly, drawing inspiration from the attitude his friend Jim Brass had recently adopted. "Maybe next time you should be more careful alright?" Gil flashed his police badge at the man who blanched._

"_No disrespect meant, sir – I'm sorry," he stuttered. Still not turning around, Catherine tugged on Grissom's sleeve._

"_Come on, honey, let's go," she murmured._

"_I'm really sorry, ma'am," the man apologised. Grissom shot him a withering look like the one he'd seen on his friend's face many a time before escorting Catherine out of the building protectively._

_She had barely stepped out of The French Palace before she erupted into giggles._

"_That was great! I wish I'd seen his face!" she enthused, her arm still slipped around his. "That was Tony – he can be a real jackass sometimes, but you were brilliant! Thank you! He was so scared! Ever take acting?"_

_Grissom grinned, delighted to see her so happy. "Me? No way."_

"_I think you missed your true calling," she smirked. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned her to him._

"_So what do you want to do now?" he asked. Catherine shrugged._

"_Dinner would be nice. And I have to finish up an essay for tomorrow," she remembered. Grissom nodded._

"_I'll give you a hand with that – hope you're not expecting anything too fancy for dinner. I'm a little short on cash – you know you're $30 an hour?" he remarked. Catherine looked at her feet, embarrassed slightly._

"_You really don't have to do this," she told him quietly._

"_Yes I do," Gil replied as they headed down the strip to a small diner._

_More than two hours later, they were still there, getting coffee refills to keep them going late into the night. Catherine chewed subconsciously on the end of her pen as she pored over her essay: a study of the role of forensic science in police work over the last fifty years._

"_With better technologies used in police departments worldwide, forensic evidence stands a better chance of entering formal investigations..." she muttered to herself, frowning. She scribbled something out and read it through again. "With more advanced technologies..."_

_Gil flipped through her college-issued textbook. _

"_Aha, 'Criminalists: An Introduction To Forensic Science by Richard E. Saferstein'," Gil read out. "This thing was like my bible in junior high. Not detailed enough though."_

_Catherine looked up and stared. "Junior high? Not detailed enough?" she repeated with raised eyebrows. "What were you, a child prodigy? I can barely get through it as it is."_

"_No, it's just...my passion," he explained. "It's a good book."_

"_I liked chapter 12," she commented briefly, turning back to her work._

"_Forensic Serology." Gil supplied without even needing to look. Catherine's head nodded._

"_Yeah, all the stuff – the forensic characterization of bloodstains and stain pattern, to find so much information in just some thoughtless blood spatter – it's really fascinating," she spoke animatedly. She'd never been able to talk about these things with anyone in her own time before. It just felt so...normal._

"_What do you think about?" he asked her impulsively. _

_Catherine looked confused. "What do you mean?"_

"_When you're up on stage – you're thinking about something else," he furthered. "What do you think about?" Catherine laughed, brushing her fringe out of her eyes._

"_Honestly? Jesus, it's so geeky," she began, twisting the pen in her hands. "It's the only thing that works for me when I'm trying to forget the job I do. I recite the periodic table in my head. Y'know, going through the elements, atomic numbers and masses..." She trailed off and laughed at herself. Gil only smiled._

"_You'd make a good CSI." Grissom told her sincerely and Catherine glanced up at with a genuine smile. _

"_Thanks." she murmured and held his gaze for a while until his watch began to beep. He jumped and looked at it, a kind of disappointment in his face._

"_Time's up," he stated. "You don't have to hang around with me anymore." Catherine stared quizzically._

"_Well if it's alright with you, I think I'd rather stay," she answered curtly._

"_I don't have any more cash," he warned her._

"_Jesus, Gil – I'm not a mugger," she told him. "Can't I just stay with you because I like your company?" Grissom grinned._

"_Of course. I just didn't think you'd want..."_

"_For someone who almost got into a fight with a six-foot-two ex-bouncer, you sure have some self-esteem issues," she observed fondly, scribbling down more sentences._

_It was lucky the diner was a 24-hour one; they were both still there in the early hours of the morning, powering by on coffee refills and chatting like old friends._

_

* * *

------ _

"Every night for months afterwards you'd book me out all night and take me out," Catherine continued. "You were so sweet; it cost you a bomb, but you did it anyway. And you never asked for anything in return. I don't know why I didn't just marry you there and then, but I had a lot going on in my life then – I was young and stupid."

Jim Brass smiled; he remembered that story. Gil couldn't get his act together around that student and became some clumsy mess. Catherine paused and looked at Grissom, still holding onto his hand.

"You don't remember, do you?" she murmured with disheartening realisation. Gil shook his head slowly. Catherine sighed. "Right. Right, okay. We'll try something else."

- o -


	8. Strike Two

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**There's been some truly great feedback from you guys, so I'll say it again: I really appreciate it. Thank you to Lissa88, sitarra, xcatch, Lynh (do you mean that he's been OOC? It's okay if that's what you mean but, seriously, y'all gotta tell me these things! If I'm not doing this right, I'd really like to know so I can get it right the next time round, especially after this chapter because things start getting a little more intense), cherishedcrush, TheSiriusSparrow and Daisyangel (three times!). Thanks also to DruisillaBraun, janisha, Ladybug07 and TheSiriusSparrow for putting me on story alert. Anyway, yes, keep on reading, keep on reviewing. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Eight. Strike Two**

- o -

A broken wrist and collarbone, three broken ribs all on the right side and a fractured femur; Gil painstakingly wheeled himself around his small and empty hospital room, the drip on the IV stand trailing reluctantly behind. It'd been a month since he'd woken up from the coma and since then had heard all about his apparent escapades. How he'd saved that Warrick guy's ass a while back when he screwed up on the job. How spiky-haired Greg had spent his first few years under him striving for his approval until he finally settling into the job he was clearly meant to do. How the only person Catherine ever shot and killed had been trying to kill him – and that she didn't regret it.

He leant his head back and gazed around the walls. It'd become a very strange thing. He 'remembered' now, but only because of what he'd been told. When he studied the walls, the photos of himself surrounded by strangers who loved him against backdrops he couldn't recognise, he got an eerie feeling of knowing he'd done these things, but having no memory of them whatsoever. He sighed and rolled his way back to his bed. He wished, he wished so much, that he could remember.

"You," came Sara's voice from the doorway accusingly, "shouldn't be out of bed this much."

"Guilty," he smiled, holding up his hands in surrender. "But I was bored; I wanted to explore my surroundings."

"Yeah that sounds about right," Greg commented.

It was just the two of them this time – the only time he ever saw the whole group together now was the odd weekend or early morning when nobody was working. Everyone else came at random times, using every minute of their free time to try and colour the vast blanks in his mind. He felt guilty every time. They put so much effort and hope and time into him and still got the same reaction: an apologetic shake of the head and a helpless shrug.

The pair of them helped him back into bed as he struggled to hold back the wince as his healing ribs complained.

"So what are you going to tell me about today?" he asked, smirking like a child on Christmas. Sara and Greg smiled; everyone taking this in a light-hearted way was certainly making it easier on everyone. It was funny, they told themselves, that Gil couldn't remember. It was funny.

"I was thinking perhaps I'd tell you about the first time I met you," Sara suggested and Gil settled back into the pillows.

"Go ahead."

-

_It was certainly disheartening at the very least to glance around the room and find every desk occupied by elbows upon which tired heads slouched and bored eyes observed. There wasn't anything he could do but go on talking. Sure, if they remembered anything he said in the lecture, it would be just the words – they would never bother with the meaning. Sometimes he wondered why they came. Sometimes, he wondered why he bothered. And sometimes, someone would come along and remind him of the answers to all those idle questions._

_The students filed out of the lecture hall, not even attempting to conceal their gladness at its end. Gil sighed and, rolling his eyes, began to shuffle back through his notes. Forensic Entomology – well, he couldn't exactly expect anyone to love it as much as he did._

"_It was amazing," an enthusiastic voice came from in front of him. Gil looked up to the student standing in front of his desk: backpack loosely slung over a shoulder. She smiled broadly. "The lecture – it was pretty great."_

"_Well – uh – thanks," he replied, uncertainly; he wasn't used to actually getting praised for his talks, usually the most gratification he got from his part-time job was when, occasionally, a student didn't__run out of the room as soon as the bell went._

"_I mean it," the girl went on. "I really had no idea that you could determine time and method of death with such accuracy just by studying insect activity on corpses. Can you really do that?"_

"_Would I lie to you?" he returned. The girl grinned and looked nervously at the floor, a curtain of her brown hair falling down across the right side of her face._

"_I'm Sara," she told him, looking up again. "Sara Sidle."_

"_Pleased to meet you, Sara," Gil courteously held out a hand. "It's always nice to know someone actually listens."_

"_I always listen; I love your lectures," she blurted out before falling silent and turning a deep shade of pink. The poor kid looked so embarrassed at her confession that, when she raised her head finally and breathlessly asked if he'd like her number, he had said yes, just to put a smile back on her face._

_Sara had thought he was leading her on, an idea that would leave her chasing false hopes for years to come but, as she retold the story, she laughed at herself and joked about it. You could do that when you'd moved on; you could do that when you were happy. She leant forwards in her seat, now and asked him if, when he remembered, if he'd be the one to give her away at her wedding. He agreed, of course he agreed, but he wanted to tell her not to hold out for anything - when would he remember? There didn't seem to be an end in sight._

-

Greg and Sara had left. The sun had long since sunk beyond the horizon, plunging the city of Las Vegas into a darkness only salvageable by the neon lights that studded every built surface. Gil was asleep in his room, alone again after another tiring day trying in vain to re-find his routes. He couldn't. He didn't remember his first encounter with Sara and, though she spoke of it animatedly, he could tell he'd hurt her again by not being able to remember.

That was another thing he so hated about this whole business; when he told them he couldn't remember, there'd always be that flash of hurt across their faces as they told themselves that they weren't memorable to him, they weren't important to him. It wasn't that at all, they all knew it, but it never stopped them feeling it.

But behind Gil's closed eyelids that night, echoes of events began to unfold for the first time since – for the first time since he could remember...

-

"_Oh crap – can I borrow your tweezers?" Catherine muttered, finding she must've left them back at the lab. She was out on the field for the second time ever and things weren't going well if she'd already forgotten part of her kit. _

"_Sure," Gil answered, vaguely, waving a hand towards his kit as he pored over woodchips by the doorframe of the scene. "They're in the inside compartment."_

"_Got 'em," she responded, triumphantly and then paused. "Ooh – who's Sara Sidle?" Grissom turned and saw her holding up a slip of paper._

"_Girlfriend?" she suggested mischievously._

"_No! No – student," he corrected her. Catherine raised her eyebrows with a cheeky grin._

"_Wow...scandal," she teased him further. "Is that what her parents are paying tuition for or is it...extra-curricular?"_

"_She is not a girlfriend," he asserted and Catherine rolled her eyes._

"_Jeez, Gil – I'm gonna have to find you a girl, aren't I?" she remarked. "Then you and her can come out with Eddie and me." _

_Right – of course – Eddie, a man for whom a lack of any real business didn't seem to prevent him from flaunting flashy printed business cards. Eddie was a suave, smooth-talker with slicked hair who had swept suddenly upon them and snatched up Catherine before he even had a chance to protest. He was everything Gil was not and, though it wasn't that part of it that bothered him, it drove him crazy._

"_I don't know why I've never seen you with girlfriend," Catherine went on. "Why wouldn't any girl love you?"_

_Grissom flinched slightly, turning back to his work. She just didn't seem to realise – it was her, it would only be her and that was the problem. When she pondered why any girl couldn't love him, she said it so platonically it hurt._

-

It hurt now. Lying asleep, Gil was struggling to breathe and unable to wake up from the dream. He tried to shout from beyond waking that he remembered. He remembered! He wanted to scream it and run, run home to Catherine and Lindsey, back up the path in the front yard, through the white front door – Number 55 – he remembered.

-

"_In fact," Catherine continued. "You haven't been on a date with anyone since I've met you. What's the deal, Gil?" _

_Grissom looked pained, he glanced up at Catherine who stood above him, hands on hips and waiting for an answer. If it was an answer she wanted then she'd get the answer. He'd tell her it's because he'd fallen in love with her. Because he'd suddenly found someone who made him understand the meaning of that. He'd thought love was just a concept, something inferior to his scientific scepticism – but it was so different now. Why hadn't he been on a date with anyone? Because there could never be anyone else but her. There could never be anyone else._

_He opened his mouth to tell her, finally, the truth._

-

A nurse strolled down the corridor, on her way out home. She heard the rasping breaths coming from the room and looked in to see the patient's chest convulsing. The man was unconscious and drawing in every gasp in vain. The nurse swore quietly and sprinted down the hall to fetch the doctor.

-

"_Grey," their supervisor stepped into the room and barked sharply at Catherine who jumped. "Will you stop standing around chatting and process the bathroom?" Catherine blushed._

"_Sorry," she muttered and hurried from the room. Gil closed his mouth and bit down on his tongue._

"_You too, Grissom. Back to work." _

-

"Mr. Grissom, you've had a collapsed lung," the doctor loomed over him. "We've put a tube in your throat to help you breathe but we'll take it out once we're satisfied you're stable, okay?"

Gil nodded, as uncomfortable though it was to move his neck with the plastic shoved down it. The doctor smiled warmly and disappeared again. Then Gil closed his eyes and went back to sleep. That night, he dreamt of nothing and, when he woke the next morning, remembered nothing of the night all over again.

- o -


	9. Noah

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Thanks again for the reviews, TheSiriusSparrow, xcatch, sitarra, cherishedcrush and Lissa88. And also to gckyr for putting this on story alert. More reviews would be greatly appreciated. I'm sorry if the angst is getting ya'll down and, yeah, sitarra – I know what you mean – I don't know why, I guess it's just the perfect opportunity for angst. And also personally because I love ER and, in fact, medicine in general and can lift bits of technical jargon right out of that. The perfect crime... Well anyway, yes review if you get the time and if you liked reading this (or if you didn't, actually. I'm more than fine with concrit) – Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Nine. Noah**

- o -

Sara and Warrick walked quickly through the now-familiar corridors of the hospital towards the ward where Grissom was. When she saw Catherine's outline standing rigidly outside the door of his room, gazing in, Sara broke into a jog, dragging Warrick along behind her by the hand.

"We came as soon as we heard," she told Catherine, coming up behind her. Catherine nodded an unspoken thanks and returned to stare back through the window at her husband on a ventilator again.

"The others are coming whenever they can make it," Warrick added, squeezing her shoulder slightly and offering a smile. "Aren't you allowed to go in?"

Catherine looked blankly at him for a while before replying. "No – no I'm allowed in, I just...I couldn't yet." she admitted. "Thanks for coming."

"Not at all."

With a determined nod, Catherine pushed the door open and walked in; after a pause, Sara followed her in with Warrick and for a long time until Nick, Brass and Greg turned up later, they sat in silence, broken only by the steady wheeze of the ventilator.

-

Propped by pillows and breathing on his own again, Grissom smiled expectantly around at the room. It was another Saturday morning, everyone was there and Gil was waiting patiently to hear more stories from a life he couldn't recall.

"Well?" he prompted.

"I can't think of anything else," Nick replied, looking to Warrick and Sara who shrugged.

"Don't look at me – I'm all out of ideas," Greg held up his hands and turned to Catherine.

"I've got nothing else," she muttered helplessly, looking at her feet. It's true, she'd been through their meeting, their first 'date', their first kiss, when Lindsey was born and when they got married; he remembered nothing – just another lifetime of memories wasted.

"Catherine," Brass spoke up cautiously. "What about Noah? Tell him about Noah." Catherine's head snapped up and the others looked curiously around at her.

"I – I can't, Jim," she said fretfully, unconsciously bringing a hand up to her chest and fiddling with something around her neck.

"Who's Noah?" Lindsey asked her mother. Catherine stared desperately around at the faces, including Grissom's blank one, finally turning back to Jim Brass.

"No, I can't, Jim. I've..." she paused and laughed self-consciously. "I've tried to forget."

"But you haven't been able to, have you, Cath?" Jim pressed gently. "You can't forget. Maybe it's stuck with Gil too."

"Who's Noah?" Lindsey repeated. Catherine sighed and, relenting, smiled weakly at her daughter.

"You were very young, Linds – only about two years old," Catherine told her and, taking a breath to steady herself, delved back – right back into a confined space in her memory where she'd put everything dark, everything painful, in the hope that it'd go away. Subconsciously, she winced before retelling the story – it was all coming back now. Noah...

-

_Catherine flopped onto his sofa with a tired sigh and put her feet up, kicking off her shoes. Two-year old Lindsey was napping in the spare room that had become her second bedroom. Sometimes Catherine just needed to get away now and then; it was nice to have somewhere to go after work or somewhere to stay when Eddie was out on business trips._

"_How about 'Alyssa'?" he suggested suddenly, putting down his book. Catherine looked up briefly before grabbing the remote and flicking through TV channels._

"_It's Greek – meaning 'logical'," he furthered. Catherine laughed._

"_That's all you want isn't it?" she joked. "You know a pretty big part of it is how you bring them up."_

_Grissom shrugged his shoulders and smiled fondly at her._

"_It's a pretty name." he commented. Catherine grinned at him again._

"_For a girl," she said._

"_And who says it's a boy?" Gil asked, raising an eyebrow. Catherine smirked and avoided his eyes. _

"_You phoned the clinic, didn't you?" he realised, accusingly._

"_Well can you blame me?" she protested. "I'm impatient – I can't wait four whole months to find out if I can find out now!"_

"_Three and a half!" Gil argued with a smile. Catherine rolled her eyes._

"_I wanted to know! He's my baby, too," she complained. Gil stopped._

"_Too?" he repeated. Catherine flushed; she'd been doing that far too much lately, slipping up and forgetting Eddie was the father. Gil was a friend. He was a friend. What was wrong with her?_

"_You know what I meant," she muttered. Grissom shrugged it off._

"_How did he take it?" he changed the subject. Catherine groaned – she'd been putting off telling him for a while and only finally broke the news the night before._

"_He didn't believe me first – then he was...he's happy," she answered, unconvincingly. He'd been pretty pissed off actually; he'd thought she was on the pill._

"_That's nice," Gil replied, clearly not believing her. Catherine sighed._

"_Well it doesn't matter anyway – I'm happy," she said and glanced down at the bump before adding: "It's not like I could hide it much longer; he may be permanently drunk or high, but he's not blind." Gil smiled and watched her for a while as she stared idly at the television screen._

"_Noah – how about Noah?" he proposed._

"_It's nice," Catherine began. "If I want to end up buying two of every stuffed animal for the little guy..."_

_Gil laughed, shook his head as she grinned impishly at him and he returned to his book._

_-_

_It was a Tuesday afternoon when it happened, the following Tuesday to be exact. Tuesday the 15th of November 1995. Of course she remembered; she could never forget. She'd been making lunch in the kitchen of the apartment she shared with Eddie having just picked Lindsey up from playschool. Lindsey was half-watching The Rugrats on Nick Jr. and was wearing denim dungarees. The two-year old had her hair in pigtails and a small band-aid on her thumb; it had one of the Disney princesses on it and Catherine had stuck it on her to cheer the toddler up after Lindsey'd shut it in a door. When making lunch, Catherine had to unplug the toaster and plug it in again to get it to work – stupid piece of crap. She remembered every little thing about that day._

_At 12:21 she felt a dull ache surge down her lower back. She'd shrugged it off but remembered a similar feeling from half an hour earlier. The next time was at 12:38; it was stronger and sharper. At 13:15 she knew something wasn't right and, with trembling hands, called a cab._

- o -_  
_


	10. Strike Three

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Thanks again, reviewers! I've been epically busy lately so sorry if the next chapter comes a little slowly. You've been really great with reviewing though – please keep them coming in, feedback is always fantastic in any shape or form. Thanks goes to D.M.A.S, DrusillaBraun, sitarra, Lissa88, gckyr, cherishedcrush and TheSiriusSparrow. Please keep reviewing, all, if you have time. But most of all: enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -

**Perpetuity. Chapter Ten. Strike Three**

- o -**  
**

_The nurse took the two-year old's hand._

"_We can take your daughter to the Family Room," she offered. "It might be better." Catherine nodded and smiled at the little girl who stared appealingly at her mother, frightened of the stranger's hand in hers._

"_Go on, Lindsey – it'll be alright," she assured her softly. "Go with the nurse; I just need to talk to the doctors, okay, sweetie?"_

_Lindsey nodded reluctantly and, thumb in mouth, trailed away behind the nurse. Catherine watched her until she disappeared around the corner and winced as another wave of pain passed through her. An intern dragged an ultrasound machine close to the bed._

"_Okay, let's find out what's going on, Ms Willows," the doctor said calmly and moved the ultrasound scanner across her skin. There was a long silence before Catherine couldn't stay quiet any longer._

"_Where's the heartbeat?" she demanded, sitting up with frantic eyes. "Can you find the heartbeat? Is everything okay?"_

_The doctor didn't speak for a while. Catherine felt her own heart plummet; she already knew. After that, from that deafening silence up until when her tiny son was delivered, there was a gaping hole in her memory – a blur of fear, pain and emptiness._

_-_

_Gil sat back in his chair, waiting to see if CODIS would find a hit on the DNA he pulled from a scene earlier in the day._

"_Got anything?" Jim Brass swung by. Grissom opened his mouth to reply when he was cut off by his ringing cell phone._

"_Not yet," he said and walked over to the corner of the room to answer his cell. "Hello?"_

"_Hello, is this Mr Willows?" a female voice came down the line. Gil paused._

"_Yes..." he answered, not sure why._

"_Mr Willows, this is Desert Palms ER – we have your wife Catherine here..."_

"_Oh Jesus."_

_Grissom ran, ran as fast as he could, down the bustling corridors of the Crime Lab. He'd never driven any faster in his life and didn't even bother parking straight or locking his vehicle. He leapt out of the driver's seat and sprinted into the hospital._

"_Where's Catherine Willows' room?" he demanded at the reception desk. The clerk looked at him vacantly for a moment._

"_Uh..."_

"_Where is she?" he snapped impatiently. The clerk began to shuffle uncertainly through charts and papers. Unable to hang around any longer, Gil sighed exasperatedly and darted through the corridors, peering into every room. Then he saw her, between hospital sheets, small and scared. He made to go in when a nurse stopped him suddenly._

"_Excuse me, sir – you can't go in there." the nurse told him firmly._

"_What do you mean I can't go in there?" Gil said irritably. "I need to get in there."_

"_I'm sorry sir..." the nurse grabbed his arm but Grissom shook him off. A nearby doctor looked up at the scuffle._

"_Are you the father?" the doctor asked, coming over to see what the trouble was._

"_Of course I'm the father," he answered so crossly and firmly that he almost believed it himself. The doctor nodded and led him away from the door._

"_In which case, Mr Willows – I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.."_

_-_

_Sobered by the news, Gil tentatively and quietly pushed open the door. Catherine was lying with her back to him, curled tightly on the bed and facing the plain white wall._

"_Catherine..." he began softly, not knowing what else to say. She cleared her throat, steadying it._

"_Go away, Gil." she told him in a dead voice. He didn't go away, instead he took a few steps forward._

"_Catherine, I came as soon as they called me." he continued._

"_Well I'm sorry for dragging you out here," she retorted resentfully. "You can go now." _

_Sure, she'd given them his number when they asked if she wanted them to phone her husband, but it was too late now. It was too late and she wanted to be alone._

"_They told me what happened." Gil went on, taking a few more cautious steps forward. He could see her face, stony and fierce, glaring at the wall and eager for him to leave._

"_Good. Now go." she uttered forcefully through gritted teeth. He went around to her side of the bed and knelt in her eye-line. She didn't look away but fixed her cold and angry eyes on him instead._

"_Get out, Gil." she repeated as her voice began to shake. She tensed her jaw and stared defiantly at him. He reached out a hand, placed it gently on the side of her face that wasn't dug deep into the hard mattress and saw her flinch at the contact, her lower lip starting to tremble unwillingly._

"_It wasn't your fault, Cath." _

_Yes it was, Catherine thought bitterly. She'd said she didn't want to wait. She'd said she was impatient. She got what was coming to her. It was all her fault._

"_It wasn't your fault." he whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb._

"_Go away," her voice was constricted and quavered uncontrollably. He scooped her into his arms and held her tightly. "Go away. Go away." _

_Catherine sobbed into his shoulder; her whole body shuddered violently and she cried and cried, all the time telling him to leave. He didn't. He stayed. And, as he held her until she fell asleep, he stared over the top of her head at the plastic box standing in the opposite corner of the room. A switched-off incubator with a lifeless, blanket-wrapped bundle inside. One tiny, tiny, perfectly-formed foot visible from the edges of the bundle. Perfect, but far too small to keep going._

_Gil clenched his teeth and stared straight ahead at it: at the unmoving child, at the miniscule fingers forever-curled gently around the blanket fringe like the last attempt at a goodbye wave, at the label on the box which announced the 16:43 entry to and exit from the world: a momentary stint from their only Noah Willows._

-

"Mom..." Lindsey spoke up finally. "Mom, I remember." Catherine smiled at her daughter, through the tears running down her face.

Gil looked at his wife, realising how much it had taken her to retell the story. Sara gripped tightly onto Warrick's hand and Greg found he had blood in his mouth from biting down on his tongue. They had had no idea. Grissom blinked back tears that Catherine hadn't been able to keep from coming; she was clearly shaken from revisiting the memory. She looked hopefully up at him, through tear-blurred eyes. That was what broke his heart all the more when he shook his head slowly and murmured:

"I'm so sorry, Catherine – but I don't."

Catherine swallowed hard and looked down at the floor for a very long time. Then she looked up, blinked further tears away, wiped her eyes on her sleeve and put on a smile.

"That's okay," she croaked before repeating it in a stronger voice: "That's okay. I don't blame you."

She smiled around the room then got up and immediately left it in a painful silence.

- o -


	11. Saturday Night, Sunday Morning

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**Well I can't exactly leave you hanging after some really great reviews. Thank you gckyr, sitarra, Lissa88, D.M.A.S, Review1234 (that review meant a lot to me, so thank you. That's what I'm aiming to be one day – soon, I hope!), cherishedcrush, Danielle Goulding and LynH. I'd very much like to get some feedback on this chapter most of all so that I know I've managed to get the last bit right – it was tough to write and I'd like to hear your opinions and concrit – have I kept in character? Anyway, thanks again. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Eleven. Saturday Night, Sunday Morning**

- o -**  
**

Grissom sighed and hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"What is wrong with me? How could I forget something like that?" he muttered furious at himself.

"It's not your fault, Griss," Nick assured him.

"I had no idea..." Sara murmured vacantly with glazed eyes.

"Yeah." Greg muttered heavily. Jim nodded and went out to find Catherine, leaving a room full of sighs and numbness.

Catherine was standing at the opposite end of the corridor by the frosted glass of the window, facing out. He stood beside her for a while, not looking at her and not saying anything.

"Why did you make me do that?" she spoke up at last. Brass shrugged, hands in pockets.

"I figured that if he remembered anything at all, it'd be what you both tried to forget." he offered quietly. Catherine gave a sudden bitter laugh.

"But why Noah? Why Noah?" she whispered out of the window. Brass didn't answer, not sure whether that was directed at him or at someone else. Instead, he put a hand on her shoulder and joined her in her sigh. She turned to him decisively, composed.

"I don't know if I can keep on doing this," she admitted and waited him to protest or to tell her she was a bad person. But he didn't say anything.

"I can't keep doing this." she repeated with finality.

"I think it's important that you do," Brass said, choosing his words carefully. "But if you can't – don't. We'll still stick around."

Catherine nodded. "I really have nothing left now."

Brass looked at her intently. "He'll miss you." At this, Catherine laughed cynically, shaking her head.

"No he won't. But I'll miss him."

-

The Saturday visit didn't last very long. There was nothing anyone could think of to say following Noah and there was nothing else that Gil wanted to hear. He slipped into deep dreamless sleep again and woke at 3am to find someone standing surveying the memory-covered wall in his room. She had her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and she moved quietly from photograph to letter to moment.

"Catherine..?" he spoke up, clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes. She turned and smiled at him sadly.

"This one – " she pointed up at one of the photographs that he couldn't make out in the dark. "Was taken when you were using up some left over film in a camera. About three years ago. We were trying to paper maché a recreation of a functioning ant hill for Lindsey's Science Fair. You always went all out for those projects of hers; it always ended up being you and me working on it until about this time of night ages after Lindsey'd gone to bed."

Gil smiled back. He liked the stories, though he never remembered them; he liked to think that there was once a time when he could have recalled every second of their life together, every movement in the way she got ready for work in the mornings – every shade in her hair and every detail of her pretty face, before it scribbled over with sadness and pain. Even if he couldn't remember it, he liked to be told that there was once a time when he could reach for her in the night and she'd be there.

"I couldn't sleep," she went on. Gil looked at the only other furniture in the room: a straight-backed chair.

"The porter could bring you in a mattress," he offered. Catherine shook her head.

"No, it's no problem – I was just waiting for you to wake up." she answered and moved towards him. He saw she had an envelope in her hand and she gave it to him.

"What's this?" he asked, making to open it.

"No, don't open it yet," she told him. "Open it in the morning." He glanced at his watch.

"It _is _morning," he reasoned. She smiled.

"You know what I mean." she replied affectionately. "Anyway, I should get back – I don't want to be missing when Lindsey wakes up." She leant forwards and kissed him – something she hadn't done for many weeks.

"What was that for?" he wondered out loud. Catherine looked at him and at the letter in his hand.

"Because I love you," she answered simply and turned to go. "Get some sleep. Open it in the morning."

Gil nodded and put the letter underneath his pillow before drifting back to sleep. He remembered her slipping out of the door into the night though everything else might've been a beautifully elaborate dream.

Out in the hospital car park, just before pulling out and driving home, Catherine sat for a moment, leaning against the steering wheel with a sigh. Then she sat up, straightened herself out and shifted into first gear.

-

Sunday morning; Grissom woke with his hand under his pillow, already reaching for the letter. In the pale morning light that was trickling into the room through the yellow-white hospital blinds and beginning to fill his room with a pure and golden glow, he sat himself up and ran a finger under the envelope seal. He peered inside: amongst other things, a long letter, the handwriting becoming steadily more erratic and distressed as it went on.

Gil,

I suppose you know all the stories now. How we met and how we came to be like this now – the condensed version. In real life, it took a long time. It took a very long time; a lot of it was a lot of waiting around and screwing things up – mainly you doing the waiting and me doing the screwing-things-up. I'm sure you must've gathered that by now, even if you're too polite to admit it. You're too good to me.

Well anyway, that's why this is the hardest letter I've ever had to write because, all that time, you never once gave up on me. And that's exactly what I'm doing now. Oh Jesus, I am a terrible person. I'm sorry, Gil. I only hope you can understand, even if you can't remember, and know that it is not your fault. I feel like I've been through everything all over again, every dark corner of the life we had together but nothing is working. Going back to Noah was just the final straw and I am so, so sorry. I don't blame you for forgetting. I know it sounds wrong but if I could, I would. I've tried so hard to forget. I am a terrible, terrible person; I almost envied you for being able to just leave it all behind like that.

Gil, here's the thing – I always saw that Noah was ours – DNA or not, and after we lost him there was always that chance of future possibility. That maybe we could try again and get it right next time, but maybe we won't get that next time. Gil, I'm pregnant. Ha ha, I never thought I'd be telling you like this. You won't remember but we've tried for this for a very long time. I wish so much that I'd been able to tell you when it might've meant something to you, even if you would come to forget, but I only found out last month and it was too late by then. It doesn't matter. I know this will mean nothing to you because you won't remember how much losing Noah hurt, or how wonderful you were to me, or how much we both wanted this. It just made going back over Noah so much harder, that's all – I know you'll understand, even if you can't feel it.

I'm sure the others will fill you in on the missing memories but I've got nothing left to give and I can't watch you like this anymore. I'm so sorry, Gil, for giving up on you like this. You would never do it to me – you were always too good for me and, Christ, I hope you understand. If you remember, one day, and if you forgive me for not being strong enough for this, please, please come and find me again. Perhaps we can pick up where we left off – but I can't start again, not after digging everything up with no effect. Not after Noah.

I am so sorry. Please forgive me for not being able to do this.

I love you very, very much – and I will always remember.

Catherine.

- o -


	12. Of Clarity

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories.**

**I have to say, your reviews have been incredible. They really have been the most fantastic reviews I have ever got. So I really mean it when I say thank you to sitarra, cherishedcrush (Twice! Enjoy your holiday!), Sw33tangelgrl, Lissa88, gckyr, Review1234 (Brave? I've never really had any trouble with anonymous reviewers and in fact you anonymous reviewers have left some of the best reviews – I could never skip out on that!), September, Daisyangel, D.M.A.S and bloodymary2. You honestly do say some of the nicest things which makes me feel bad for writing yet another downer of a chapter. Bear with me though! More feedback would be great but I can't ask for better than I'm getting. This chapter is especially for you reviewers who have been brilliant. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Twelve. Of Clarity**

- o -**  
**

Gil sat, numb for a while, before tipping the rest of the contents of the envelope into his lap. Out of the envelope, following a black-and-white ultrasound photo of what he presumed was their child, dated from two weeks ago, slid a fine silver chain with a small locket on the end. He let the chain run between his fingers and with now-trembling hands, he opened the locket.

Inside it was a tiny image of an inky hand-print and, turning over the locket, on the outside was engraved in small and humble writing: "Noah".

-

"_Do you want to say something?" Catherine murmured, turning to him as they stood by the lake together on a cold November morning. There was no-one else for miles around. Gil looked at her and the small white box in her hand that looked as though it might hold some kind of meaningful gift._

"_What can I say?" he replied. He dredged in his mind for appropriate words that were not his own:_

"_Or I shall live your epitaph to make, _

_Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;_

_From hence your memory death cannot take, _

_Although in me each part will be forgotten."_

_Catherine looked at him and chewed her lower lip, holding tightly with white hands to the box as he slipped his arm around her shoulders and held her tightly, staring out across the still and waiting waters. She shivered unconsciously and lost herself for a moment._

"_Your name from hence immortal life shall have, _

_Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: _

_The earth can yield me but a common grave, _

_When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie."_

-

Gil sat up straight in bed, his hands unconsciously clenched around the papers and the necklace as ephemeral but vivid snaps of memory flashed before his eyes.

-

_Across the other side of the lake, a small flock of geese took off, startled suddenly by something beyond them. The ripples journeyed across the lake towards them but died before they reached their feet. Catherine opened the box with frozen, shaking fingers. Inside was a small packet of grey-white ashes – all that remained._

"_Your monument shall be my gentle verse, _

_Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, _

_And tongues to be your being shall rehearse _

_When all the breathers of this world are dead;"_

_Without thinking, she brought a hand up to lightly touch the locket on a chain around her neck. He'd bought it for her on the day she came home from hospital, the miniature hand-print being an image of Noah's own prints, standardized hospital prints of little hands and little feet, before he was cremated. Eddie caught her wearing it – demanded who Noah was, suspecting she was sleeping around, but fell into a guilty silence when she told him. She didn't cry then, though, not when she told Eddie. It didn't matter anyway. How could it matter to him? Regardless of blood running through fragile veins, of alleles and chromosomes and everything she'd been taught, Eddie could never have been a father to Noah._

"_You still shall live - such virtue hath my pen -_

_Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men." Gil finished and turned to her. His mouth felt dry and hoarsely asked her: "How was that?"_

"_That was beautiful." she told him. "Shakespeare?" He nodded._

"_Sonnet 81."_

_Catherine sighed and gently opened the packet, looking inside at the forlorn mess of dust and ash. _

"_Goodbye baby Noah," she whispered, tipping the ash slowly into the earth and water, where death met life and became indistinguishable. "I guess I never really knew you; I never saw you smile or heard you cry or watched you sleep – but you were, and will always be, our little boy and I loved you."_

_She paused, considering these words with an aching heaviness and looked at emptying packet. Her voice choked as she breathed her words again, "I loved you."_

-

Real, meaningful tears filled Gil's eyes. His breathing quickened in the early morning light and he sat very still, afraid to move in case it slipped away again.

-

_The last pieces of ash fell from the packet, were caught and spiralled by the wind._

"_Are you crying?" he asked her. Neither of them were looking at each other but only stared across the water._

"_Yes." was her blunt reply._

"_Me too."_

_He drew her into a tight hug and she buried her face into the deep sinking black of his coat. They stood for a long time by the water's edge until they realised they'd both stopped crying. As they turned to go back to his car and to journey home in silence, Gil turned his eyes back to the lake for one last look at the undisturbed water. He ran a tongue over his dry lips and mouthed a silent promise:_

"_I will always remember you."_

-

"Nurse!" Gil found his voice and shouted throatily, desperately as he got out of bed. "Nurse!"

A nurse came running to see what was going on. Gil looked wildly around his room with tears coursing down his face, clutching a letter, a silver chain trailing from his clenched fist.

"I need to make a phone call."

- o -


	13. Daybreak

**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**

**Spoilers: None as far as I am aware**

**Rating: I've gone with T or PG-13 just to be safe. There's a use of the f-word about once and THAT'S ONCE TOO MANY! Swearing is overrated, kids.**

**Summary: GCR with a little WS. After an accident affects a team member, the team find themselves revisiting old memories**

**Once again, thank you so much for reviews. This is the last chapter and I hope it does not disappoint. You've been really great reviewers so thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter, sitarra, Bookworm0485, gckyr, D.M.A.S, DrusillaBraun, Daisyangel, Review1234, September and Lissa88. As well as everyone who's reviewed throughout and who have put this on their C2s or in favourites lists. It's always lovely to know people are actually enjoying this.**

**The next story you can expect from me will probably be entitled: Every Me and Every You. This isn't focused on any pairing, but is more of a case-fic which concentrates on each of the six main characters. The next GCR chaptered fic will probably be called Down The Aisle – look out for those. Or not, if you so wish :)**

**Thanks again. As ever, feedback would be fantastic but just reading it would be good. Enjoy! Love LJ xXx**

- o -**  
**

**Perpetuity. Chapter Thirteen. Daybreak**

- o -

Warrick and Nick watched their supervisor with apprehensiveness. Noah had, apparently, been too much for her to go over again because she was extremely quiet and withdrawn: somewhere else completely.

"So what do you think? Cath?" Warrick prompted. Catherine shook herself.

"Huh?"

Nick and Warrick exchanged looks. "We just went through what we've got for this case, Cath." Nick said. Catherine frowned.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that – can you go over it again?" she asked, distractedly. Warrick shrugged.

"Okay..."

As they began to go over what'd taken them at least ten minutes to explain before, Catherine's cell phone went off. She jumped to her feet with an apologetic look at the two guys and stepped to the side of the room to answer it.

"Willows."

"It was Sonnet 81." a familiar voice told her eagerly down the phone line. "We were at Lake Mead, just about ten minutes from Echo Bay. Friday the 18th of November. 1995."

Nick and Warrick looked up as Catherine made a funny noise and saw her, hand over her mouth and eyes full of tears.

"Are you crying or laughing?" Gil asked.

"Both." she admitted, with a laugh through her tears.

"You know, you never treated us all to your version of the first time we slept together," he continued roguishly.

Catherine laughed some more, beginning to run down the corridors of the lab, out to her car. Warrick and Nick grinned at each other as she rushed from the room and sat down – let her have a chance to see him first.

"No way – I'm taking that story with me to the grave," she replied and heard his chuckle through the receiver as she started up her Denali.

"Okay then, while you're on your way over, I'll entertain you with what I remember of it, shall I?" he smirked and Catherine's car rolled out of the parking lot, making that well-worn journey to Desert Palms.

-

_Catherine rubbed her eyes and yawned, stretching against the wooden back of the chair at her kitchen table. _

"_So anyway," she concluded sleepily. "It was their 17-year old kid who just went totally crazy with his dad's shotgun cos he was high. It just really gets you thinking, you know, about how you're raising them. Whether or not you're doing it right, and how will you ever know and stuff."_

_Gil traced the pattern of the tablecloth absent-mindedly with his fingers; it had been a very long shift._

"_I mean," Catherine went on. "I'm never around enough. And then you have the fights, the divorce, all this messed up crap."_

"_You're doing fine," he assured her. "Both of you – better than fine. You just worry far too much; more than you need to."_

_Catherine laughed. "Perhaps. But no matter how many times you tell me that, I'll still worry."_

_Gil shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say I didn't try, though." He glanced at his watch and got up._

"_I should go – let you get to sleep. I'm on again in about 8 hours." he said but, as he stood to go, she grabbed his hand._

"_Stay." she asked him with imploring eyes and since when had he ever not given in to her? Gil sat back down but she didn't let go of his hand. Catherine stood up and led him willingly out of the kitchen._

"_What are we doing, Catherine?" he questioned hesitantly when she stopped outside her bedroom door. She raised her eyebrows at him._

"_Don't tell me you don't know," she replied. "What we've both been waiting for, for many, many years."_

"_Okay then." he answered with a smile and kissed her._

_They fell into the room together and, between unbuttoning his shirt, Catherine glanced apprehensively at the open door._

"_Shut the door," she whispered. "Lindsey's got a friend sleeping over."_

"_Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow as he kicked the door closed. "Well why don't you have a friend sleep over, too?" _

_Catherine collapsed on the bed entwined with him before replying. "Mmm – good idea, I'll just give Ecklie a call."_

_Gil chuckled and shook his head. Catherine would always, at the very least, go one better._

"_Oh don't tell me you're not the kinda guy who's up for a threesome, Gil." she said with a laugh as belts, shirts and jeans came off._

"_You have such a dirty laugh!" he stared in wonderment at her only causing her to laugh again. _

"_And you," she returned, poking him in the chest with a finger, "didn't give me a straight answer." Catherine leant in to kiss him back when a small voice piped up from the doorway._

"_Mommy?" a six-year old Lindsey Willows stood by her mother's bedroom door._

"_Oh Jesus," Catherine muttered, wrapping the sheets around her and throwing a blanket to Gil who hurriedly did the same._

"_Mommy, can I have a glass of water?" Lindsey asked, apparently unaware of what was going on. _

_Catherine slipped on the nearest shirt which didn't happen to be her own. _

"_Of course you can, sweetie," she told her daughter. "Although maybe next time you should knock on the door first..." _

_Gil muffled his laughter with a pillow and felt Catherine jab him sharply with her elbow before she stepped out of bed. Taking the little girl's hand, Catherine led her into the kitchen and Gil couldn't help but smile at Lindsey's inquisitive voice that drifted from the kitchen._

"_Mommy, were you putting Uncle Gil to bed?" Lindsey enquired, looking at her mother with her round blue, innocent eyes._

"_Yes, baby – sort of." Catherine replied uncertainly._

_It literally was just sleeping together. Catherine returned to bed after putting Lindsey back to bed and struggled to suppress her own laughter as she buried her face in the sheets with a groan._

"_Oh Christ – the kid's gonna be in therapy before she hits sixteen, I know it." Catherine muttered. Gil grinned in the darkness and drew her close to him._

"_See? Worrying far too much," he mumbled tiredly._

"_Perhaps."_

_He silenced his alarm as soon as it went off, some hours later and turned to check that Catherine hadn't woken up. He'd left her still asleep, a note stuck to the fridge – the note that was now pinned on the hospital wall between a photo of he, Catherine and Lindsey at a park in '97 and his pathetic results from his first visit to the LVPD shooting range – and a kiss on her forehead that she didn't feel._

_After his 10-hour shift, he came back to her; he always would. It never mattered where they went without each other, or how far from home they travelled by themselves – the point was that they would always find themselves coming home to each other. It was how it was, how it was meant to be and nothing, apparently, could ever change that._

-

This time it was Catherine sprinting down from her poorly-parked car and dashing through the network of hospital corridors. It was Catherine who burst into his hospital room having left work with no explanation. She flung her arms around him as he stood on crutches by the hospital payphone and didn't care when her cell phone clattered to the floor.

"I have missed you so, so much," she whispered into his shoulder. He held onto her with his one free hand, balancing precariously on the crutch.

"So..." he looked at her, straight into the clear blue eyes he knew so well. "Are we having a girl or a boy?"

"I don't know," she replied, making to bury her face back in his chest but he stopped her, one hand gently on her cheek.

"Catherine..."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "A little boy." she relented. Gil beamed at her and kissed her, remembering how that felt, remembering everything about it.

"I think," he said, unfurling a fist to reveal a delicate silver necklace, "I think this is yours." And he clasped it carefully around her neck.

For the first time ever, as she looked at the tiny locket with its intricate carved lettering, she smiled a genuine smile and was happy.

- o -

**(Well I rarely leave a story without its happy ending.)**

**Thank you. **


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